Bound By Darkness

by Alexandra Ivy

  Her attention, however, was trained on the male imp behind the bar. With his long golden hair pulled from his narrow face and slender body encased in skin-tight leather, he should have been handsome, but there was a hard cunning in his green eyes and an unpleasant curl to his thin lips.

  Reaching the bar, she stiffened as a half-breed troll stepped out of a cubby, his rough features almost human if one didn’t look too closely at the beady eyes that glowed red in the overhead lights or the double row of teeth that were razor sharp.

  “Vampire,” the creature growled, hitching up his filthy pants that matched his too tight T-shirt. “Tasty.”

  She returned her gaze to the imp even as she felt the disgusting mongrel move to stand at her side.

  “I need a room,” she said.

  Predictably the mongrel troll leaned close enough to gag her with his putrid breath.

  “You can share mine, pretty bloodsucker.” He grabbed her hand, pulling it toward his crotch. “So long as you suck on—”

  His words broke off on a high-pitched scream as she allowed her fingers to wrap around his aroused cock, squeezing until she threatened to make him a eunuch.

  “Touch me again and I’ll fillet this tiny dick and serve it to you for breakfast,” she drawled in sweet tones. “Got it?”

  “Got it,” he squeaked, his round face flushed as he danced on his tiptoes.

  For a minute she considered simply carving out the bastard’s black heart. Trolls, even those of the mongrel variety, possessed an insatiable appetite for rape and she didn’t doubt he would have thrown her to the floor and forced himself on her if she hadn’t fought back.

  Then, with a disgusted hiss, she shoved him away, barely noting his glare of hatred before he was scurrying toward the door.

  The imp flashed a mocking smile. “That time of month?”

  Jaelyn narrowed her gaze. “You next?”

  “Here.” The man slapped a key on the counter before pointing toward a narrow door carved into the paneling. “Vamp rooms are down the stairs, last door on the left.”

  “How much?”

  “One hundred pounds for the room and another hundred for a host.” He nodded toward the pathetic humans. “Top of the line.”

  She rolled her eyes. “More like scraping the gutter.”

  The imp shrugged. “Take it or leave it.”

  Jaelyn reached beneath the neckline of her spandex top, pulling out a folded bill.

  “Fifty American bucks for the room.” She dropped the money on the bar. “I brought my own host.”

  The green eyes glittered with a sly greed. “Seventy-five and I don’t let every demon in the place know there’s a female in the basement.”

  Jaelyn smiled as she moved with a blinding speed, pressing the edge of the dagger against the imp’s throat before he could blink.

  “Twenty-five and I don’t cut off your head.”

  “Deal.”

  An abandoned church west of Chicago

  The neglected ruins on the outskirts of the ghost town only hinted at the once-proud beauty of the Victorian church. Now the stained-glass windows were shattered and the hand-carved pews empty, while the attached graveyard was a pitiful shell of tumbled crypts and tenacious weeds.

  Beneath the piles of stone and forgotten corpses, however, the vast catacombs had been tended to with scrupulous care.

  Or at least the majority of the tunnels, Tearloch acknowledged.

  Weeks ago the lower chambers had been nearly destroyed by a series of violent explosions that had had collapsed tunnels and filled caverns with rubble.

  Making his way through the unnaturally smooth passageway, Tearloch grimaced. It wasn’t just the evil the pulsed through the air, or thick silence that made him twitchy as hell.

  No, it was the sensation he was once again trapped against his will that made his skin crawl.

  With an effort he leashed his instinctive urge to charge out of the claustrophobic catacombs and instead forced his feet to carry him to the large cavern where the spirit of Rafael hovered in the center of the stone floor.

  He shuddered at the sensation of icy power prickling over him as he stepped past the barrier that the wizard had conjured to protect them from intruders.

  If his mind hadn’t been clouded by his growing madness he would’ve been horrified by the spirit’s increasing strength. It was always a delicate balance between a summoner and the summoned, and Sylvermyst were taught from the cradle to keep a careful leash on their spirits.

  Otherwise the master could all too easily become the slave.

  As it was, he felt more annoyance than anger as Rafael drifted toward him, his skeleton-thin fingers caressing the pendant hung around his neck.

  “The mage?” he questioned softly.

  Tearloch’s lips flattened. He’d just wasted the past two hours searching the tunnels for Sergei Krakov. It was more than a little irritating that the bastard managed to elude him.

  “He’s managed to cloak his presence,” he snapped.

  “You are certain he went through the portal with you?” Rafael demanded.

  Tearloch scowled. “Of course I’m certain. Do you think I could mistake hauling a grown man through a portal from London to Chicago?”

  “Then he no doubt has used his powers to escape.” The wizard dismissed his rival with a sneer. “He always was a coward.”

  Tearloch hissed at the arrogant claim. He agreed that Sergei was a spineless fool, but that didn’t mean he didn’t need the mage. His gaze stole toward the bundle of blankets that hid the child in the corner of the cavern.

  “He might be a coward, but he told the truth when he claimed that he was the best equipped to resurrect the Dark Lord.” His gaze shifted back to the spirit. “He has prepared far longer than you have.”

  Rafael tilted his chin to a haughty angle. “He is unworthy to perform such a holy ceremony. I have warned you from the beginning that—”

  “I think you’re forgetting who makes the decisions, wizard,” Tearloch interrupted the increasingly familiar complaint.

  Rafael had been whispering that they had no need of Sergei since Tearloch had managed to capture the child along with the mage. It was blatantly obvious he wanted Tearloch to get rid of his magical rival, just as he had wanted him to turn his back on his tribesmen.

  He’s isolating you... .

  Easily sensing he’d pushed too far, the spirit was offering a deep bow of apology.

  “No, Master.”

  “Don’t call me that,” Tearloch snarled.

  Rafael bent until his hairless head scraped the floor. “As you wish.”

  With a growl, Tearloch twirled away from the wizard, shoving his fingers through his hair.

  “These tunnels are suffocating me,” he rasped. “I need fresh air.”

  “You cannot leave the caves. Do not forget you are being hunted.”

  Tearloch jerked back toward the wizard with a fierce glare. At the moment he was hot, frustrated, and in the mood to blame the damned wizard for all his troubles.

  “I’m not likely to forget. Not when I’m being buried alive like I’m a damned rock troll.” He shuddered. “Why did you insist we come here?”

  “These caves were my home for centuries.” Rafael’s own expression was ... loving, as he glanced around the smoothly carved room. Of course, he’d spent the past months in hell. Anything was bound to seem like the Ritz. “My power is greatest here as well as my ability to protect you.”

  “It reeks of blood.”

  “You know as well as I that the Dark Lord demands a sacrifice for his gifts.”

  Tearloch gave another shudder, ancient memories threatening to sear through the fog clouding his mind.

  “Yes.”

  “Do not waver now, Tearloch.” Without warning, the spirit was standing at Tearloch’s side, his clammy hand touching his shoulder. “Not when we are so close.”

  Tearloch shook off his hand, a strange ache pulsing behind his eyes.


  “You say we are close and yet you offer more delays,” he growled, struck by a sudden urge to find a place to lie down. He was tired. So tired. “I’m beginning to wonder if there’s a conspiracy among magic-users to prevent the resurrection.”

  The wizard allowed a hint of anger to touch his gaunt face. “If you wish to assign blame then you may point your finger at the damnable Weres. It was their battle with the demon lord that destroyed my altar and closed the conduit I had opened to my prince.” His fingers grasped the heavy pendant. “It will take time to restore all that I have lost.”

  Tearloch backed away.

  He didn’t give a damn about Weres or demon lords or any other pathetic excuses.

  The Dark Lord had reached beyond his prison to touch Tearloch with a searing demand to be set free.

  Until he’d managed to resurrect his master there would be no peace.

  “You have a week,” he snapped, heading toward the opening of the cavern. “Fail me, wizard, and I’ll banish you back to hell.”

  Chapter 7

  Jaelyn walked through the long, steel-lined corridor, knowing on some level she was dreaming.

  Not that it didn’t feel real.

  Terrifyingly real.

  She shivered at the sensation of the white silk robe that covered her from neck to toe brushing against her skin. At the familiar hum of the florescent lights. At the cool air that stirred her hair, which spilled down her back.

  She was back in the private compound owned by the Addonexus.

  There was no mistaking the military perfection of the steel passageways that were carved beneath the Tibetan mountain, or the ventilated air that remained a monotonous sixty-five degrees.

  Nor was there any mistaking where she was headed.

  This wasn’t the first occasion she’d been locked in this particular nightmare. But like every other time, Jaelyn was powerless to halt the unfolding drama that clenched her stomach with dread.

  Trapped, Jaelyn continued down the corridor until she reached the heavy metal door at the end. Without hesitation she pushed it open and stepped into the dark room beyond. Too late she sensed the waiting vampire as he uncloaked directly beside her.

  “Samuel?” She turned her head to regard the pale-haired vampire with more surprise than alarm. “What are you doing here?”

  “Waiting for you.” A disarming grin spread across the handsome face, the blue eyes twinkling.

  Jaelyn wasn’t fooled by the boyish charm. She knew the cunning predator who lurked just beneath the golden good looks. Still, she wasn’t prepared for the man to dart forward, snapping a thick, silver collar around her throat.

  She hissed in pain, her hands lifting to tug at the collar that was searing into her skin.

  “What the hell?”

  Samuel’s smile widened. “Surprised?”

  She warily backed into the center of the room, futilely attempting to remove the collar even as her senses spread through the sparsely furnished office to make certain there weren’t any other attackers looming in the shadows.

  Better late than never, right?

  “I was summoned by Kostas,” she said. “He’s not going to be pleased when he finds out you’ve been screwing around in his office.”

  Samuel clicked his tongue, his expression mocking. “I’ve warned you that you should never take anything at face value, sweetie. Your weakness has always been your habit of trusting others.”

  Damn.

  She dropped her hands, a cold dread forming in the pit of her stomach.

  She’d been brought to the compound only a few years after Samuel. For thirty years they’d trained side by side, sometimes as partners and sometimes as opponents. And for thirty years he’d tried to lure her into his bed.

  But in this moment she wasn’t feeling the whole BFF vibe.

  In fact, there was an ugly glint in the blue eyes that made her inner alarms clang.

  “You sent the message?” she demanded, inching back until her butt hit the edge of the walnut desk.

  She wasn’t trying to escape. At least not yet. Instead she was judging the precise measurements of the room. Six feet from the door to the two wing chairs beside the bookcase. Three feet to the file cabinets in the corner. Two feet from the desk to the wall.

  During a fight it was vital to be familiar with her surroundings.

  Tripping over a piece of furniture could mean the difference between life and death.

  Samuel smiled with cocky confidence as he strolled toward her, his muscular body shown to advantage in the black running shorts that were all that covered him.

  “You should have made sure the note was genuine before you left your rooms.”

  Yeah. Master of the Obvious.

  “I’m assuming that Kostas isn’t going to be making an appearance?”

  “No, we’re all alone.”

  She licked her dry lips. “What do you want?”

  His gaze traveled down her body. “You know, my dear, there was a time when I might have been satisfied having you in my bed.”

  She didn’t bother to disguise her grimace. “Never.”

  “There’s no need to rub it in,” he chided. “You’ve made your lack of interest painfully clear.”

  “So now you think you can force me?”

  “Jaelyn.” Genuine indignation darkened the blue eyes. “I would never rape a woman. Surely you know me better than that?”

  She refused to react as he allowed his powers to fill the air. A Hunter never revealed weakness. Not even when her skin beneath the silver collar was being scorched to a crisp and a frigid pressure threatened to crack a rib.

  “Actually, I don’t think I know you at all, Samuel,” she said, her voice carefully devoid of emotion. No use provoking the crazy vampire. “If you don’t want sex, then what do you want?”

  He shrugged. “I’m not an animal, but I am ambitious.”

  “Big shocker,” she muttered.

  Since her arrival at the compound she’d been aware of Samuel’s insatiable obsession with gaining the approval of the Ruah. She truly thought he would get on his knees and kiss Kostas’s ass if it would earn him brownie points.

  “So long as you’re around I’m always going to come in second place.”

  “Second place?” She frowned at the bitterness in his voice. “Are we in a competition I didn’t know about?”

  “We’ve been competing since we were brought here, sweetie.” He reached to grasp her chin in a crushing grip. “Of all the recruits the two of us have emerged the strongest. Why else do you think the Ruah have pitted us against one another over and over?”

  She made no effort to escape his hold, still hoping to bring an end to the madness without violence.

  “I thought we were supposed to be a team?”

  “There’s only room for one at the top.” His smile faded to reveal the cold, empty hunger that burned deep in his eyes. “And since I’m honest enough to admit that I can’t win in a fair fight, I’ve decided to get rid of you with less than honorable means.”

  Okay.

  Any hope of ending this with a smile and a handshake died a painful death.

  “This is crazy, Samuel,” she breathed. “I’m not your enemy.”

  “But you are.” He tightened his grip, her jaw cracking beneath the strain. “So long as you exist you will always be the golden child of the Addonexus.”

  She hissed at the pain flooding through her body. “What the hell does that mean?”

  “You’ll always be given the best assignments, along with the glory.”

  “What glory? We work in secret.”

  He shook his head, refusing to acknowledge the truth of her accusation.

  “No. I won’t live in your shadow.”

  “Samuel ...”

  She slumped forward, as if overcome by the silver poisoning her body and sapping her strength. Instinctively he reached to catch her, which was all the opening Jaelyn needed. Using his forward momentum to her advantage, she gr
asped his arms and flipped him over her hip.

  He cursed, landing on his feet at an awkward angle. He swiftly recovered. He was, after all, blessed with the same gifts that she was. But it gave her just enough room to leap over the desk, covertly snatching the letter opener out of its stand on the way.

  Samuel straightened, his eyes glittering with a hate he’d kept hidden for years.

  “You’ll pay for that, bitch.”

  Jaelyn didn’t bother to respond, her concentration narrowed to the smooth pearl handle of the letter knife that was clutched in her fingers and the distance to her opponent’s heart. Samuel’s problem had always been his love for the dramatic.

  Jaelyn was a killer. Cold, clean, efficient.

  Samuel was a braggart.

  “Nothing to say before you die?” he taunted, reaching behind his back to pull out the handgun he’d tucked in the waistband of his shorts. “No pleas for mercy? Or perhaps you’d rather barter? Are you ready to spread your legs now, my dear?”

  She balanced her weight, her gaze never wavering from the center of his chest.

  The silver was draining her strength at a dangerous pace. She would have one chance to strike.

  She intended to make it a killing blow.

  “Fine, I’ll make up some cool shit for you when I describe your death scene for the poor, grieving Ruah.”

  She sensed the moment his finger squeezed the trigger, and with one fluid motion she was leaping through the air. The bullet sliced through her lower calf, but she ignored the pain as she landed directly before him. She would have a fraction of a second before he could shoot again.

  All the time she needed.

  With blinding speed she was stabbing the knife directly into Samuel’s heart, watching as the blue eyes widened in agonized shock.

  “No ...”

  Allowing his panic to overcome his training, Samuel dropped the gun and grasped her wrist, attempting to yank the weapon from his heart. Jaelyn, however, was already slicing through his chest, ruthlessly ignoring his hoarse cry.

  The crimson blood spilled down the ivory skin of his chest, filling the room with the scent of death.

  Distantly Jaelyn was aware of the door being pushed open and the cold rush of power that warned a vampire was entering the room, but she didn’t allow her concentration to waver.